Hope for the Hopeless

By Cheri Cowell –

Several years ago, a New Living translation of select scripture verses was compiled in a booklet called The Book of Hope, and given free of charge to anyone calling in response to a series of commercials aimed at those who may have lost all hope. With the days following Christmas and New Years being the ones with the highest numbers of suicides, these commercials were created to reach the millions who are without hope and may choose this way of escape. There are many reasons psychologists have given for this yearly phenomenon, but depression seems to be the common denominator.

In Webster’s dictionary, one of the definitions given for depression is hopelessness. Without hope there is no reason to go on, no purpose in life; without hope that things will change, improve, move towards some goal or purpose, there is no future. And without a future there is no reason for a now. So what is in this booklet? It contains the words and promises of God.

The writer of this psalm calls on God to deliver him from death and famine. We know, however, that God does not deliver all who trust in Him from these horrors of life, yet we can still place our trust in Him because…well, because His is the only one big enough to hear our cries, to be there with us in the midst of our struggles, and to deliver us “home” to heaven when our time has come. Without hope in someone bigger than you or I, life can become too much to handle.

Our hope is indeed in Him whose unfailing love is our greatest promise from His Word: The Book of Hope.

PRAYER: God as I bow my head, I trust You sense my fears, understand my struggles, and know my need for a life raft of hope. Help me cling to Your Word as an assurance of the hope available to me. I rest in that hope and rejoice in the promises of Your unfailing love.

“Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear Him, on those who hope for His lovingkindness. To deliver their soul from death and to keep them alive in famine.
Our soul waits for the LORD; He is our help and our shield. For our heart rejoices in Him, because we trust in His holy name. Let Your lovingkindness, O LORD, be upon us,
according as we have hoped in You” (Psalm 33:18-22 NASB).

Where Is The Miracle? Part One

By Lori Freeland –

I follow a lot of CaringBridge sites.

If you are unfamiliar with this amazing cyber vision, check it out at www.CaringBridge.org. CaringBridge allows a family in medical crisis to post updates, prayer requests, and needs to a page that friends and family can access.

The sites I follow have catchwords like “children” and “oncology.” My rooting in the pediatric cancer community comes out of the four years our family spent battling leukemia with our oldest son, Kyle. Because we’ve tread our own rough journey, people send me CaringBridge links, ask me to write encouraging emails, and pray for their friends and family that are dealing with similar struggles. I consider their requests a privilege. The way I see it, if I can’t take something away from my stay in a very dark pit, what good are my experiences? Not letting Jesus use me would be a waste. I staggered through the journey for a reason. So did Kyle. And I wouldn’t give back the empathy, wisdom, or perspective that came out of that trek.

Here’s how this works for me. I go to the link and sign up to receive updates to my email. I read the journal entries and the family’s story. I pray for these anonymous kids until I know them and their parents—intimately. I join them on their journey—sometimes from a thousand miles away.

As I go about my own life—kids, homeschool, cleaning, laundry, activities—various updates load into my Inbox. I click on the updates and scan the latest news.

My heart breaks every single time.

These kids struggle with school and friend issues, unsuccessful and painful chemo treatments and surgeries, hair loss and mouth and skin sores, intense bone and muscle pain, and the desperate desire to just be “normal.” I’ve walked in those shoes. Fallen under the weight of Kyle’s agony. Lived the desperation to save my child—at any cost.

I’ve begged and pleaded for The Miracle in hopes of sparing the journey in favor of healing my child.

Many stories do not have a “happy” ending. Families dive into a dark pit where they breakdown, fall apart, and suffer right along with their child. Sometimes they get their lives back. Sometimes they don’t.

When the decline begins and the updates grow more desperate, my fingers hover over the Enter Key that will activate the link and I hesitate, knowing one day soon I will receive The News.

I relive the desperate hope, the deep need to believe in The Miracle. The pleas for The Miracle to come quickly. The anger when The Miracle fails to manifest.

I slump in my chair at the appearance of that last post listing interment arrangements. In lieu of a gift, please send a donation to the…

I ask myself, what happened to The Miracle? A question I mulled a lot while Kyle suffered. What sin kept The Miracle away? What treatment did his doctors leave out? What did I do wrong? What did I miss? What prayers did I leave out? Why did Kyle suffer through four years of hell before we got our lives back? Why did the sweet little girl in the hospital room next to ours go through three years of hell and never get her life back? We all ask these hard questions—controversial faith altering questions.

Here’s a new question: What if The Miracle did occur and I missed it?

God tells us, “…my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” (Isaiah 55:8 NIV).

Coming Next: The Miracle Manifested Part Two

No Victory in Mud Slinging

By Jarrod Spencer –

Complaints are a dime-a-dozen. A child complains about what’s for dinner. A fan or player compains about an official’s call, or lack thereof. A customer complains over dissatisfaction with their food. We complain over an actor’s work in a play/film, the weather, the government, or how a church operates. Quite simply, we find it easy to complain. We want to be satisfied, so when we’re not, we don’t give second chances and we let people know about it.

Have you been receiving complaints?

I’ve had my fair share. I once thought I wanted to be a “famous” preacher. However, after knowing all that they go through from skeptics, I reconsidered, and no longer want to be well-known.

If you have been experiencing some complaints lately, the following quote from Rubel Shelly is for you: “If criticism is mistaken or mean-spirited, rise above it. Maintain the high ground when you’re under fire. No victory is worth winning at the expense of picking up the mud that has been slung at you and throwing it back.”

Would you agree it is easy to throw mud back? There are people out there that will always complain about something I have done. They have slung mud when they were upset. It took a lot to imitate Christ and not sling it back. Though it may make me feel good to throw it back, there is no victory found in mudslinging.

If you are thinking about slinging some mud, don’t. If you’ve been slung at, don’t sling back. There is no victory in that. Rise above being under fire! You can gain victory by rising above, rather than lowering yourself to their level.

I am ever trying to maintain the higher ground, with his help.

PRAYER: Father, may I imitate Your Son’s example when He was on the cross and did not sling the verbal mud back that was hurled at Him.

“For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly” (I Peter 2:21-23 ESV).

Thank Goodness for Mercy

By Susan Dollyhigh –

Moca, my miniature dachshund, spent a week in the animal hospital recovering from pancreatitis. Afterwards, when I took Moca to the vet for a check-up, Dr. Brinegar asked,
“What’s going on with Moca?”

“Moca ate a baby bird,” I said.

Dr. Brinegar looked first at Moca and then at me. “I am an avian veterinarian, and I love birds,” he said.

I looked at Moca and thought; Puppy, you could be in big trouble. The man who holds your life in his hands loves birds. And he knows you ate one.

The vet’s knowing that Moca brought this illness upon herself by ending the life of an innocent baby bird could have impacted Dr. Brinegar’s compassion for my poor puppy. His mercy level could have plummeted upon hearing the dreadful news.

But it didn’t.

Dr. Brinegar spoke tenderly to the guilty puppy. He gently examined her belly. I think he cared…but he just didn’t judge what sin had gotten Moca into her predicament; he wanted to heal her and restore her to her loved ones.

Thank goodness for mercy.

Aren’t we glad that the One who holds our life in His hands has mercy on us?

King David, whom God referred to as a man after His own heart, cried out to God for mercy after a time of great sin in his life. King David committed adultery with Bathsheba and had her husband killed in battle. The child born of this affair died, and King David was a heartbroken man for a time.

But King David knew his healing could only come from God and he cried, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion, blot out my transgressions.”

When we, like King David, go to God and confess whatever sin has gotten us into a predicament, thankfully, the details do not affect the amount of compassion God has for us. His mercy level does not plummet upon hearing the dreadful news.

God speaks tenderly to our guilty spirit. He gently examines our heart. Regardless of the sin that has gotten us into our predicament, Our Father wants to heal us and restore us to a right relationship with Him.

Thank goodness for mercy.

PRAYER: Dear God, thank You for mercy, and unfailing love that You have for us.

I said, “O LORD, have mercy on me; heal me, for I have sinned against you” (Psalm 41:4 NIV).

Good Grief

By Jane Thornton –

Respectful whispers brush across the church lobby. Hugs cling a little tighter than the norm. Sunday Best is slightly more prevalent than on a typical modern Sunday, even if the predominant color is not black like it would have been fifty years ago.

Family and friends have gathered to celebrate the life of my father, David Hines. A few moments before the official assembly, a disturbed murmur of horrified gasps ripples across the room.

“David Hines fell in the baptistery!”

A moment of stunned silence follows.

“I thought they didn’t bring the casket here.” A friend’s undertone reflects her shocked disbelief.

Stifled laughter flutters through the family. Not dead David, grandkid David. Where else would a ten-year-old boy who arrived thirty minutes early for a funeral be but playing near the baptistery?

I go to see for myself. Sure enough, there stands my nephew, khaki pants and plaid shirt darkened and plastered to his wiry frame, a puddle forming around his loafers. My embarrassed but resigned sister-in-law hustles him off on a frantic Wal-Mart trip for dry clothes.

Ten years later, that story highlights our reminiscing. Everyone enjoys a hearty laugh over the spectacle, including a semi-sheepish David.

Last week, our church laid another David to rest, a brother we all agreed was a “mighty man of God.” Sunday morning after the funeral, we took several moments to share memories. Numerous memorable hospital visits brought appreciative tears. Reflections on Dave’s unique eccentricities brought poignant chuckles. We sang his silly song. We wept and laughed at his love for kids.

At the funeral of Lazarus, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35 NIV). Even knowing he would conquer death, Jesus shared his friends’ sorrow. I wonder if laughter shuffled through the crowd when Martha protested the stink of opening the grave. I wouldn’t be surprised. Several stories show Jesus’ sense of humor and comic timing. I love knowing He participates in all our emotions—the joys and tears found in the everyday vagaries of life.

When teaching English, I offer “good grief” as a prime example of an oxymoron. But as I reflect on funerals, silly songs, and sopping wet boys, I see that through our faith, God makes good grief a reality. “‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be o God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (I Corinthians 15:55-57 NIV).

Comment Prompt: Any funereal yet funny moments you can share?

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